It's pissing down outside and I've spent the vast majority of the day shredding old bank statements with my new shredder — I ordered it from Argos last night and it was with me by this morning (Amazon, step up). 

(You know you're entering into your 30s when you're impressed with both the speedy delivery of your new shredder, and the fact that you've purchased your own paper shredder.)

There's something quite cathartic about giving your cupboards a de-shitting from time to time. I tend to go through elongated periods of hoarding, interspersed with sporadic, frantic, episodes of decluttering — often including the sale of basically everything I own. 

I've managed to fill three whole bin bags full of statements ranging as far back as 2005; including every single paper payslip I've ever received. 

The cleansing is almost complete. 

(Re-hoarding will commence shortly. As is tradition.)